Bucky couldn’t possibly look more stunned then. Sure, he was trying to fumble them towards the subject he’d never have gotten the guts for before his time collided with the other Steve’s. Sure, he was trying not to scare Steve off too. But come on! Steve’s this blind? It’s like that one time that cute doll - Eliza, the grocer’s daughter down the street - had been moon-eyeing over Steve for weeks on end, even tried to ask him out (sorta) and the entire thing had flown right over Steve’s head. One of the few girls to have a thing for Steve, and he’d missed out.

Honestly, it’d been kinda painful.

Now Bucky’s feeling a little like Eliza. He squeezes Steve’s hand, emphatically, as he shakes his head. “What, no! No, nothing different than when we get the night off,” And just in case, Bucky tacks on. “I just have my usual. Couple shots of whiskey. That’s all.”

Bucky looks down at Steve’s hands gripped in his, wondering how the hell he’s gonna get this point across to Steve. The other Steve just…got it. His own Steve’s so oblivious that Bucky’s wondering if maybe the other Steve read the past one wrong. Or something. Look, Bucky likes fantasy and science-fiction but he’s no experiment in time travel stuff.

Bucky dares a glance up at Steve to see him looking at him with concern. Like he's trying to be there for him like any best friend should, but he’s not sure what’s going on or how to help.

“What I meant - “ And Bucky stalls about, ‘cause now he’s afraid Steve’s not gonna quite get it if he works it out. So instead, Bucky’s hand twists in Steve’s shirt as he tugs him towards him and gasps out, “Please, please don’t hate me for this -”

Their lips crash together the next second in a fierce, hard kiss that Bucky narrowly avoids clicking their teeth on.